


Triple Shot

by there_must_be_a_lock



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Fluff, M/M, So Very Pointless, Tropes, cliched as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24796027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: Fluff Friday trope series: coffee shop meet-cute!
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Triple Shot

On Thursday morning, there’s a new barista in the Starbucks down the block. Gerard’s been staring at his feet, imagining a superhero with cloven hooves, so it takes him by surprise when he looks up and sees ink and piercings and eyeliner and oh my _god_ those _eyes_. 

“Can I take your order?” the guy asks, one perfect eyebrow raised, a sly little twist of a smile on his lips. 

“Um,” Gerard says, and promptly forgets the order he’s been spitting out six mornings a week for almost a year now. 

“Hey, Gee,” Ray says brightly from behind Pretty Guy. “The usual?” 

Gerard nods, and then avoids eye contact as he pays and waits awkwardly for his drink. It can’t come soon enough. 

Finally, he waves goodbye to Ray and heads out. 

“Who was that?” he hears Pretty Guy ask, as he pushes the door open. He really doesn’t want to know how the rest of that conversation goes. 

On Friday morning, Pretty Guy remembers his name. 

“Gee, right? Triple shot?” 

Gerard gives him a dumb little wave and the guy smiles so brightly it leaves afterimages in Gerard’s retinas. 

“I’m Frank,” he says, pointing at his own name tag. “You’ve got some, uh… pen, I think?” 

He gestures at his cheek and Gerard flushes, rubbing at the ink even though it’s definitely going to be smeared worse now. That’s what he gets for falling asleep on top of his sketchbook again. He’s so flustered he almost walks out without his coffee. 

On Saturday morning, Gerard gets there a little early, and he’s already sitting on one of the couches inhaling his drink by the time Mikey slouches in. He gives Gerard a little jerk of his chin in greeting and somehow strikes up an animated (well, animated for Mikey) conversation with Frank almost immediately, because life is not fair. 

“How do you know Frank?” Gerard can’t help but ask, super casual, when Mikey settles next to him on the couch. Mikey gives him a too-sharp look before shrugging like he’s still mostly asleep. Gerard’s not fooled. 

“Just around,” Mikey says vaguely. “You’re coming out to the Loop Lounge tonight, right?” 

“Kinda wanted to stay in?” Gerard tries, but Mikey’s shaking his head before he can finish the sentence. 

On Saturday night, Gerard’s hovering awkwardly by the bar when he sees a familiar face weaving through the crowd. Frank’s wearing eyeliner and a too-tight shirt that exposes his hipbones, and the smile he gives Gerard should probably be illegal, it’s so pretty-dirty-mischevious. 

“I know you,” Frank says, leaning right in to say it against Gerard’s ear. “Sorry, no espresso here. I’ll buy you a beer, though.” 

“Wait, what?” Gerard says, but Frank’s already waving to the bartender. Gerard’s been trying to signal her for like five minutes now and she hasn’t given him a second glance, but now that _Frank_ is leaning over the bar, she immediately appears with two cups of beer in hand. 

“Shit, I gotta go,” Frank says, and passes over one of the cups. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll find you after!” 

“Wait, what?” Gerard says again, and almost slaps himself in the face. Frank’s already elbowing his way through the press of bodies. To Gerard’s surprise, he elbows his way right to the front, and then he hops on stage and grabs the microphone. He looks right at Gerard and gives him a quick flash of a grin. 

“Okay, motherfuckers, let’s go,” he says, and the drummer counts them in. 

On Sunday morning, Gerard has coffee at Frank’s apartment. It’s without a doubt the worst coffee Frank’s made him, but it tastes fucking fantastic. 


End file.
